Chapter 13
SHADOWS OF JEALOUSY
MALAKAI
I drum my fingers against the windowsill, watching Seraphina from my private balcony.
She moves through the eastern garden with a grace that makes my shadows curl with hunger.
Even in captivity, she maintains that infuriating Light Court posture—spine straight, chin lifted—as if she's a visiting queen rather than my possession.
A week has passed since I took her against the corridor wall, her moans echoing through the hallway as court members pretended not to watch.
The way she came apart when she realized we had an audience—that flush spreading across her golden skin, the scent of her arousal overwhelming the corridor—is burned into my mind.
She's adapting to my court with unsettling ease.
The servants fear her. The guards respect her. And I can't stop watching her.
"If you stare any harder, you might burn a hole through her," Emmett's voice cuts through my thoughts.
I don't turn. "One can dream."
Emmett moves to stand beside me, his face impassive. "The Council is waiting, my lord. The border dispute requires your attention."
"The border has been disputed for centuries. It can wait another hour."
"And what exactly are you doing that's so important?" Emmett asks, his tone hovering dangerously close to insubordination. He's the only one who can speak to me this way and keep his tongue. Most days, I appreciate his frankness. Today is not most days.
"I'm observing my wife. Making sure she's not planning something troublesome."
"She's not plotting an escape," Emmett says dryly. "She's rearranging your grandmother's prized poisonous flower collection."
I squint. He's right—she's carefully transplanting the deadly nightshade, her slender fingers working with surprising expertise. "How domestic of her. Perhaps next she'll bake poisoned cookies for the entire court."
"You could always ask her what she's doing," Emmett suggests. "It's a novel concept called 'conversation.' I hear bonded pairs occasionally engage in it."
I shoot him a withering glare. "I preferred you when you cowered and called me 'Your Terrible Magnificence.'"
"You instructed me to never call you that again after the incident with the Meridian ambassador."
"Yes, well, I've changed my mind. Bring it back into your vocabulary immediately."
Emmett sighs, a sound like wind through ancient cypress trees. "The Council, my lord."
I make a dismissive gesture. "Tell them I'm plotting world domination. Or that I have indigestion. I don't care which."
Below, Seraphina has been joined by three of my younger Alphas—Marcus, Stefan, and Viktor. My eyes narrow as Marcus gestures animatedly, clearly telling some story that has captured her attention.
"What are they doing with her?" I ask, shadows darkening around me.
Emmett glances down. "It appears they're talking to her."
"I can see that. Why?"
"Perhaps because she's the Shadow Lady now, and it's customary to acknowledge one's mistress?" Emmett suggests, each word carefully measured. "Or perhaps because, unlike some people, they understand the value of diplomatic relations."
I ignore the jab, watching as Viktor says something that makes Seraphina's lips curve upward. Not quite a smile, but close enough to send an unexpected jolt through my chest.
"She never looks at me like that," I mutter, then immediately regret the words.
Emmett's eyebrows rise fractionally. "Like what? As if you're not about to disembowel her beloved pet?"
"I don't disembowel pets. Children love me. Ask any of the palace urchins."
"The palace children run screaming when you enter a room."
"Exactly. Healthy fear builds character." My attention is drawn back to the garden as an actual laugh—bright and unexpected—drifts up from Seraphina . Stefan is now demonstrating something with exaggerated movements, and whatever it is has cracked her carefully maintained composure.
Something dark and possessive coils in my chest. My shadows writhe more aggressively around my feet.
"What are they saying to her?" I demand.
Emmett's expression remains carefully neutral. "I'm not a lip-reader, my lord."
"Then become one. Immediately."
"If you're so curious, why not join them? You are, after all, her husband. Her Alpha."
I make a noncommittal noise. The truth is more complicated than I care to admit.
In the days since claiming her in the corridor, I've found myself increasingly obsessed.
Not just distracted. By the scent of her when she passes me in the corridors.
By the defiant flash in her golden eyes when I issue commands.
By the discovery that her body responds even more intensely when others witness her surrender.
It's becoming a problem.
"The Council," Emmett reminds me again.
"Fine," I growl, turning away from the window.
"I'll deal with the doddering old fools.
But first..." I stride to my desk and scrawl a quick note, sealing it with shadow magic.
"Have this delivered to the garden. Tell Marcus, Stefan, and Viktor they're needed for northern border patrol. Immediately."
Emmett takes the note, his expression unreadable. "Is there an actual threat at the northern border?"
"There's always a threat somewhere. If they can't find one, they can create one. It builds initiative."
"And this has nothing to do with the fact that they made your mate laugh?"
I flash a dangerous smile. "Don't be ridiculous, Emmett. I'm simply concerned with the security of my realm."
"Of course," Emmett says, his tone dry as desert sand. "And what kind of Alpha would separate his top border guards from court just because they displayed basic social skills with his Omega?"
"An innovative one. Now, shall we go listen to old men complain about sheep wandering across arbitrary lines on maps?"
I sweep past him, shadows billowing dramatically behind me.
It's an unnecessarily theatrical exit, but I have a reputation to maintain.
Besides, I need to put distance between myself and the uncomfortable feeling that surged through me at the sight of Seraphina's smile—directed at someone other than me.
The Council meeting drags on interminably.
Five ancient Alphas, remnants from my predecessor's reign, whom I keep around because killing them would have been too messy politically.
They drone on about trade agreements, boundary disputes, and proper protocol for handling Light Court delegation requests.
I slouch in my throne, using my shadows to form increasingly elaborate patterns of tiny warriors engaged in mock battles above the council table. None of the Councillors dare comment on my apparent disinterest, though several shoot disapproving glances at my shadow puppetry.
"—and finally, the matter of your marriage, my lord," Councillor Theron says, his voice wavering with age.
My attention snaps back to the proceedings. "What about my marriage?"
"The Council believes it would be prudent to establish certain expectations regarding the Shadow Lady's role. There are concerns about allowing a Light Court Omega unrestricted access to Shadow Court affairs."
I straighten on my throne, shadows darkening around me. "Are you suggesting I can't control my own mate, Councillor?"
Theron pales visibly. "Not at all, my lord. Merely that traditional safeguards—"
"There is nothing traditional about this marriage," I interrupt. "Or have you forgotten that I bound myself to her by fated mate bond?"
"A political necessity," another Councillor, Dimitri, interjects. "But one that still requires prudent management. Perhaps restrictions on her movements, limitation of her duties to purely domestic matters befitting an Omega…"
"Her duties," I say, my voice dangerously soft, "are whatever I decide they are."
An uncomfortable silence falls over the chamber. I rise from my throne, moving to the window that overlooks the central courtyard. Seraphina is there now, examining the shadow fountain with apparent fascination.
"My mate is not your concern. She is mine to manage, mine to control." I turn back to face them. "The Council would do well to remember their place. I didn't conquer the Shadow Throne by seeking permission."
The threat in my words is unmistakable.
"Of course, my lord," Theron says after a moment. "We merely wished to offer counsel, as is our duty."
"Your duty is to execute my will, not question it. Now, is there anything else of actual importance to discuss?"
No one speaks. I take that as my cue to leave, striding from the chamber with my shadows roiling around me. The nerve of them, to question my handling of Seraphina.
I find myself heading toward the central courtyard before I've made a conscious decision to seek her out. Servants and guards scramble out of my path, pressing themselves against walls as I pass.
I pause at the courtyard entrance, observing Seraphina as she circles the shadow fountain—a massive construction of black marble where perpetual twilight is captured in flowing water. She reaches out, her fingers hovering just above the liquid darkness.
"I wouldn't touch that if I were you," I call, stepping into the sunlight. "Unless you want your fingers permanently stained with shadow essence."
She startles slightly but recovers quickly, lowering her hand without looking at me. "And here I thought you'd prefer me marked by shadow."
I approach slowly, savoring the way she tenses with each step. "Oh, I do, Omega. But I prefer to be the one doing the marking."
Now she does look at me, golden eyes flashing with defiance. "Was there something you wanted, Malakai? Or is intimidating me your latest hobby?"
I smile. "Can't an Alpha simply enjoy his Omega's company?"
"Is that what we're doing? Enjoying each other's company?" She gestures around the empty courtyard. "Strange, I don't see any torture devices or restraints. Are you feeling unwell?"